


Elementary, My Dull Watson

by Iwantthatcoat



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Discrimination, Gen, Hanukkah, Immigration, Politics, Refugees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 05:05:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16825708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwantthatcoat/pseuds/Iwantthatcoat
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is reading John Watson’s mind again. Well, trying to, at least. But his  thoughts about Henry Ward Beecher are considerably more difficult to follow this time around.





	Elementary, My Dull Watson

“It pains me to admit it, but I have lost your train of thought entirely, Watson.”

I looked up, startled. Holmes had been studying my features for some time now, unbeknownst to me. 

“That the gift of the frame pleases you, I have no doubt; Mr Beecher has gone far too long unadorned. Your recollection of our past conversation, wherein I detailed how you had arrived upon the subject of war, was inevitable, but you are once again lost in thought. To my knowledge, your shoulder is in fine condition this evening, even with the damp cold of early December threatening to do its worst. A toothless threat, however, before such a formidable fire as this. You are not drawn toward thoughts of the battlefield tonight, my friend, though I do fear in mentioning it just now I have given you cause to become so.”

I glanced up at Holmes, catching his smile as he lit his pipe in a deliberately casual manner. A week with no cases was far from the worst we’d braved, but I’d the distinct impression sharing my thoughts would prove a far greater benefit to Holmes than to me. I offered myself up for further scrutiny. “My thoughts are so scattered, Holmes, I can hardly follow them.”

“Might I be of assistance?”

I settled into my chair, though far from comfortably. “Mrs Hudson let Janey home early tonight so that she might arrive in Spitalfields in time for a family celebration.”

“‘Kid’ Lewis, or should I say Gershon Mendeloff, isn’t fighting tonight, nor is his manager. Minor religious holiday. It remains to be seen whether Lieber plans to take a well-earned break from fixing fights; even the criminal classes head home for festivities on occasion. But I’m certain being without Janey for a few hours this evening is not the cause of your distress. Do continue. My apologies for the interruption.”

“Mrs Hudson agreed to let her go if she came in early tomorrow. Mrs Turner was none too pleased. Said all these people dumping themselves upon our soil shouldn't be asking for favours. Should be grateful they have work at all.”

“Ah, now that is more distressing. And it sounds suspiciously like that recent editorial— the Manchester Chronicle, I believe.” Holmes sprung out of his seat with renewed energy, crossed to his collection of newspaper cuttings and began to thumb through them. “Ah yes! The evening edition. Titled ‘England for the English!’ ‘The dirty, destitute, diseased, verminous and criminal foreigner who dumps himself on our soil and rates simultaneously, shall be forbidden to land.’ I didn’t recognise the author, but he’s likely connected with the British Brothers League. They have earned themselves a fresh page within my Bs.” He waved toward his stack of indexes upon the shelf.

“The immigrant influx is indeed large, and has been growing steadily over the last few decades,” said I. “While I would agree they are plagued by poverty, having left so much behind whilst fleeing for their lives, some have skills enough. And to think there are persons who would consider of our dear Janey part and parcel of this most unwelcome horde.…” I paused to shake my head. “Then, as I was returning from my practice the other day, a street preacher at Regent’s Park commented that something must be done if we are not to become the dumping ground for the scum of Europe. I paid him no mind. And your early Christmas gift might seem quite unrelated but—“

“But Beecher’s speech! The connections are becoming clear. You were there to hear him defend the preservation of the American Union—”

“And the ending of the South’s Peculiar Institution. I was just a boy and, as you are well aware, what I recalled best were the hecklers within the crowd. Never has a man defended his convictions more eloquently! Of course my father spoke on the subject quite often, as well as on the difficult road toward reconciliation, before his illness robbed him of his vigor— therefore it was kept afresh in my mind. It has always astounded me that our great nation wished to support the American South for a time, though we managed to take a turn in favor of neutrality. That was the best we offered in the face of the evils of human servitude— a stunning display of ‘neutrality’! Though Beecher spoke much of the common bond of our nations, even he had asked for no more than that. A simple wish that England not aid the enemies of freedom.”

“Alliances being what they are, cultivating distance perhaps has been the wiser path.”

It was not the first time I found the more practical aspect of my friend’s nature alarming. But I suppose there was some truth in it. He would go to great lengths to assist an individual in need, but his sympathies did not extend themselves to groups or communities. Save his Irregulars, perhaps. He must have easily read my disapproval, for he continued.

“Politics are far from my area of expertise, Watson, but I am privy to a few precious shards of insight concerning the turning wheels of our Foreign Office. With the recent violence in Kishinev— and Britain fares little better given the attacks in South Wales, I’m afraid— there is concern enough for the safety of the recent wave of Russian-Jewish immigrants to merit a proposal for resettlement. Brother Mycroft has spoken of a plan formulated by a member of Balfour’s cabinet to secure East Africa—Uganda, I believe— as a refuge. There seems to be a great deal of political motivation to at least look as if something is being done, though he has his doubts regarding the merits of this particular proposal.”

I found myself rising from my chair in my agitation. “Is their motivation altruism, or the _cleansing_ of our shores? Will this occur before or after the Aliens Act is presented to Parliament? That one should be refused safe harbour due to a lack of the wherewithal to support one’s self and one’s family… that is hardly justice for a family escaping unspeakable conditions, such as have been reported in Kishinev. If the accounts are truthful, that is.”

“There is little reason to believe they are not so, aside from a false optimism regarding human nature.”

“And so it seems that, years later, we arrive once more at the preposterous manner in which we ‘solve’ problems. It seems as if we make no progress. And am I so dull as to think of little else on cold, damp Autumn evenings?”

“That your mind should concern itself with compassion for these unfortunate souls only serves to bring your generous nature into sharper focus. And was it not Beecher himself who had said, ‘The folly of the few is that light which God casts to irradiate the wisdom of the many.’”

“Holmes! Have you read the Free-Trade Hall speech?” I was certain I could not have looked more surprised had Father Christmas himself appeared within our chimney.

“A simple enough task to gain additional insight on my dear, dull companion.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some historical notes: This story takes place sometime between mid 1903 (after the Kishinev pogrom, which was especially terrible) and early 1905 (when the Aliens Act was about to pass). The editorial letter is 100% authentic and was published in 1905 by the British Brothers League itself. Beecher came to Manchester in 1863 (Watson was likely around 11). If you are a history nerd like me you can read the entire Beecher speech here (https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=loc.ark:/13960/t7cr5xk69;view=2up;seq=4;skin=mobile) Mycroft was right, The Uganda Plan would be rejected—and it wasn’t in Uganda anyway, but in Kenya (It was probably called that because of the Ugandan Railway which ran through it). The man in the cabinet who thought the idea up was actually Neville Chamberlain's dad. I debated addressing the Imperialist BS of not giving a damn what the Actual Kenyans thought about sticking others on their land, but decided that as Watson was still firmly entrenched in British Imperialism, he wouldn't be likely to think about them at all. (The British settlers there hated the idea, BTW. While denying Anti-Semitism, prominent leaders said “Jews rendered themselves obnoxious to the people of every country to which they went”. No, really, they did say that.) oh, and I used Lieber as a tribute to Stan Lee (Stanley Lieber), may he rest in peace. Hope he doesn’t mind my making him a cheating bookie ;)
> 
> Some personal notes: My family came to Great Britain from Minsk (Belarus) in about 1895, before restrictions were in place to stem the heavy tide of immigration. Things were difficult enough there that they only stayed a few years before they moved on to The Lower East Side in NYC, then eventually The Bronx once they could afford to leave the tenements, and then onward to Long Island (the suburban dream!). The other side of the family got out of Odessa later (after the Aliens Act was passed) and headed straight to New York (LES, then Brooklyn, and then Long Island). This is a fairly common path.


End file.
